I stood in front of a group of goblins, a dozen of them. I had carried with me three hatchets and a spear that was too long for us, so I broke it in half and tied a dagger to the one without a pointed head. The goblins dressed in leather and fur, literally. They wore no real armor, only leather they tied around their body with string or belts.

The orcs had chainmail and proper leather armor, but it didn't come as a surprise. I inspected carefully the monsters in front of me, looking for those that were the most healthy, and once I decided on one I grabbed a hatchet and pointed at him with its handle.

To my surprise, he cheered in excitement, reaching for the hatchet and slashing around with it for a bit.

The rest of the goblins started puffing their chests or tried to stand straight to look taller. They wanted me to choose them? Why did they want to fight for a complete stranger, many of these had barely glanced at me after I was kept prisoner inside the tent.

And this feeling in my chest, a warmth not at all like that Ismeina gave me, feels similar to the excitement I suppress when I killed humans, but more comforting, more invasive, and all that without feeling dangerous.

I choose another three goblins and when I was about to hand over the last weapon, the makeshift spear, I heard laughter from behind that made me look back.

It was the goblin that had been beating earlier that day, the one forced to pick up the bowls I left laying around. He still had injuries on his body, his skin was a more brownish green, and it had a bandage around his head covering his right eye and a missing tooth.

"Pick me! I fight good! I want to fight!" he said stretching his right arm forward, an open palm, waiting for me to hand him the spear "I fight with strong, I become strong!"

The rest of the goblins laughed at him, but he remained focused on me.

Taking him with me could very well mean his death, an injured goblin an inexperienced leader...but his last words intrigued me. It hadn't been long since I figured out how to use my trance to gain knowledge almost instantaneously from my memories, but I never wondered why was Fogosh smarter, or if goblins could also do what I do.

If I watched this goblin with care and trained him, I would figure out an important quality of their kind...of my kind. After all, even if he died it didn't matter, just another monster less to plague this world.

With a nod, I handed him the spear and he seemed genuinely shocked that I did, before he grabbed it with both hands, holding it close to his chest.

"I follow, I follow strongest" he muttered, looking down as if the mere act of looking me in eyes was a crime.

"Fogosh!" one of the goblins from the row I didn't pick shouted, they were visibly upset that I had chosen the smaller, thinner, and injured goblin instead of one of them.

"Ushkur!" the goblins I had picked shouted back as the rest dispersed and left.

They then cheered among each other, slashing, and thrusting with their weapons like new toys. I felt conflicted at the scene, I thought of them like mindless beasts, grunts subservient to whoever was on top. But I had seen them support each other, and defend each other, and now, I saw them side with me.

That sensation returned, it was like nothing I ever felt before. But I had no time to ponder about it, so I pointed at a cart that had been loaded with bags by the orcs, filled with things we needed for the journey.

The goblins picked up the bags with a tent and supplies because we would stay for a few days near the road hoping for someone weak enough to attack. The bags had mostly bread and grain, as well as water.

I glanced at Makur, who stood outside of his tent, arms crossed as he watched over me and Fogosh, who had a group of seven goblins, together we had taken most of the goblins from the camp. I saw Maeld peeking her head out of the tent too.

We shared a silent stare, I couldn't tell what was going through her mind but I knew she still didn't feel comfortable enough with me, there was that hesitation in her. However, she gave me a weak smile before disappearing inside once more.

Fogosh shouted to his goblins and they began walking out of the camp, I knew that was my cue to follow so I held my spear firmly in my right hand and followed him, with my own smaller group of goblins who walked behind me, the smallest one following closer to me than the others, despite his injuries he seemed determined to not be left behind.

The path through the woods was silent and long, the sun's rays shinned stronger than before and I knew spring was near, by day some of the snow would melt but at night the cold would freeze the land again.

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Every night we rested in different groups, and while Fogosh spent most of his time away from his goblins, inside his tent. I decided to train mine. The concept of training seemed utterly alien to them, I could barely make them listen to the orders I gave and there was a complete lack of discipline.

It was not a problem of obedience, quite the contrary, they never complained even after walking for hours without rest, even if visibly upset, they still stood side by side with their weapons ready. It was the act of training itself.

They could stand still but swinging their weapons around made them lose focus and behave a little better than children. When I made them spar with each other it didn't take long for them to throw their weapons to the ground and jump at each other, fist raised.

I tried speaking with them, teaching them by example, and encouraging them when I saw even the smallest improvement, but all I achieved was Fogosh's mocking laughter and his goblin's chuckles at night.

That made me angrier and angrier, my patience running thin as the stupidity of the goblins quickly became almost unbearable. If it wasn't for the smallest one, who while struggling, kept trying to imitate my movements with the spear diligently, I would have snapped.

I grew too close to him and learned he was called Dubby, that wasn't his name, instead a nickname the other goblins put on him. He told me that goblins didn't receive a name until they grew in strength enough to be smarter or lived past one year of age.

He was confused I didn't know this, but I remained stoically silent so he didn't press the matter further.

After four days of moving around, we finally reach the road, it was large and it wasn't covered with snow, a sign that there was still movement going through. We made camp at a fair distance, since we could see so well at night we didn't need a campfire of any sort, so it was easier to remain unnoticed.

I spent my days searching around for herbs inside tree trunks and anything I could use, I tried to find a diverse amount of ingredients for the medicine that Maeld needed, and I wanted to have a big amount of them to try different combinations after I remembered what was in it.

That thought brought me back to the present, to the situation I was in.

If I wanted to I could sneak away now, leave this group forever and forsake Maeld, who in truth I had just barely known. Fogosh never seemed interested in watching over me as he spent all his time inside his tent or sleeping on the ground beneath a tree.

Return to the wilderness, forget about it all and just focus on survival on my own.

But I wasn't only trying to save Maeld. The warband fed me and gave me lengthy nights of sleep, while the forest offered scarce food in winter and short sleep due to hungry predators going hunting at night.

And that sensation that had grown in me was harder and harder to silence, now with the time to process it I understood what it was. I felt true responsibility for the first time.

With Ismeina I had duties, but they served only the both of us, and for the most part, I was meant to serve her, everything I learned and did was to aid her in some way. However, now I was training the goblins in my care to serve ME.

To carry my orders, to be effective in combat for their sake and mine...when did I stop calling them monsters? Since when was I interested in ensuring their survival? I shouldn't care about them and yet I couldn't stop training them.

Ignoring the constant mocking and their ineptitude. With Ismeina, my duties didn't ensure our survival, it was more a matter of being certain we would eat delicious food or keep the village healthy. But now it was a matter of life or death.

And for the first time, I cared.

I saw the dumb goblins I was in charge of and I was determined to train them, to make them better. The kinship I once felt, back when I had just been reborn into this cruel world, was re-igniting slowly and I knew it came from the same darkness within that I was so fearful of.

But this time, it didn't feel like before.

A goblin caring for his brethren, it felt natural.

But that arose an important question...when the time came, would I kill the humans? Would I fight against them? I have killed humans before, in self-defense or out of extreme necessity, but never have I thought about attacking the humans with a belly full and being the first one to thurst my spear with deadly intent.

I lived inside this flesh for so long, and my mind has been shattered time and time again. But I still feel human. I remember Ismeina's act of kindness, offering me a hand in my time of greatest need when she had every reason needed to kill me.

I believe that is humanity. I know that In my prior life, from which I could never gather more than just blurry images and fleeting feelings, I guided myself with those principles.

But if that is humanity, the act of kindness, isn't it human to shield a brother from harm even when you know nothing of him and could get injured yourself? Like my brothers did at the place of my birth? Isn't that the definition that I just gave to the word humanity?

Am I on a fool's errand? I've grown tired of this dilemma, that consumes my thoughts and hampers my rest, to struggle with a human soul but the heart of a monster has sucked the will out of me. I wished I could just suddenly learn the answer one day.

"Ushkur! Humans, they come!" Dubby tells me, raising his spear with a smile on his face and the rest of my goblins raise from the dirt with smiles of their own.

My thoughts come to a sudden halt with the realization that the time has come. I need to make a choice, to stay and stain my hands forever, either for me or for the well-being of someone else, or leave, abandon everything and return to the woods, to live like an animal.

I approach the now united group of goblins, with Fogosh holding his shortsword in both hands, it is noon and we can already hear the turning wheels of a wooden cart approaching slowly. We hide behind trees and rocks, laying low on the ground or kneeling. Until it finally appears in sight.

Two wooden carts carrying many barrels and crates, food for needy villages or settlements further out near the borders, eight men in total. Two drivers, and six others sitting at the edges of the carts.

Not the common guards I've seen on the road before however, they carry red tabards with a symbol on them, that of a golden sword, and they also have shields.

Fogosh makes a war cry and his group of goblins rush out of the woods, while mine just turn to me, waiting for a signal of any kind.

But I simply stand there, unmoving.

Am I going to do this?